Volume 93 — WORTH MENTIONING.
Reading edition
"Westgate-On-Sea." Mr. Punch takes off his coat and westgate in this hot weather to correct a slight misquotation. Mr. Punch is represented as saying that none of the greatest Composers ever produced an air to equal "the exhilarating, recuperating air" of Westgate-on-Sea. Now Mr. Punch, when he wrote this (July 2), did not limit this lovely air to one particular spot, but described it as "the exhilarating, recuperating air of the Isle of Thanet." That Westgate is in Thanet is true, but the advertiser poetically uses the part for the whole, thereby omitting Birchington, Margate, Broadstairs, not to mention the inland villages (delightful in the fall of the year), and above all Ramsgate, which is not Mr. Punch's "seaside resort," as is Westgate when he wants a northerly breeze, but Mr. Punch's seaside Residence, where ten-twelfths of the year are delightful, where sky and sea come out in Mediterranean colour,—where it is Nice without its cold-catching dangers, where fruit and vegetables are flavoursome and plentiful, and where there is even more than a fair share of that exhilarating, recuperating air, of which the Isle of Thanet has the sole patent.
In one hour and forty minutes, the L. C. & D. takes the traveller from Town to Westgate, and in two hours to Ramsgate, by Granville Express from Victoria and Holborn Viaduct. On Sunday morning, starting at 10·30 A.M., the Jaded One can be down for lunch at Ramsgate by 12·30, and all the day before him.
À propos of the Granville Express, Mr. Punch had the pleasure of dining at the Granville Hotel the other evening, and a better dinner, better chosen, cooked, and served, could not be got anywhere in London, or out of it. The proprietor, Mr. Quatermain East, may not wish this to be generally known, but Mr. Punch, who specially compliments the chef on his clear turtle and whitebait, thinks that he shall be doing a service to everybody by not keeping secret the story of this Quatermain—not Mr. Rider Haggard's "Allan,"—who means to remain the "Q in the corner" of the Isle of Thanet. "Q. E. D." and "D" stands for "Dinner."
LATEST STREET IMPROVEMENT.
Regent Street Tradesman. "Look here, Mr. Policeman, as we want the Job of Clearing Up this Place well done, we'll do it Ourselves."
"If you want a thing done, you should do it yourself," Is an excellent maxim, no doubt, in its way; But, when citizens willingly part with their pelf, They're entitled to claim some return for their pay. Bull does not pay Bobbies to lounge on their beats, And leave him at last to look after his streets. About "Law and Order" there's plenty of talk, But Order seems missing, and Law appears blind. The streets of his City in safety to walk, After stumping up taxes of every kind, Is surely not much for a man to expect, And excuses for failure he's prone to reject. Sure, Regent Street is not Alsatia—not quite, And this handing it over to rufflers and pests, At whatever hour of the day or the night, Is a thing against which civic judgment protests; And Bull, when once roused, be you sure, will determine Against caving in to noctivagant vermin. Must Trade, then, turn scavenger, tradesmen turn out With besom and basket to keep their ways clean? The Bigwigs and Bobbies might like it, no doubt, But Bull will demand what the dickens they mean. He'll have his streets decent by daylight or dark; For why should a man who keeps dogs have to bark?
From "Norma."—Moonlight Serenade for Three Voices—a Magistrate, a Policeman, and a Home Secretary—in Regent Street:—"Cass-ta Diva, Incantatrice!"